DISCLAIMER: Bleach is owned by Kubo Tite. I know you know that already…Hehe. But I guess it pays to repeat it once in a while to ward of imaginary lawsuits. Nah, I'm just paranoid.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Minna-san! As you can see I've decided to continue with the story I started. I just couldn't bring myself to leave things like that, sort of like loose ends that needed to be tied. This one's a long read because I kinda got carried away. If I were to read this chapter out loud, you'd think I was rambling on and on. Hehe. But I hope you'll find it enjoyable. There are no spoilers, by the way.

Darth Grievous – I've brought Ichigo back…He's alliiivvee…mwahaha. Thanks for the review. Now as for Rukia coming back with orange hair…hmmm…that's a wicked idea! Woot!

Sinmay – Thanks for regularly reviewing every new chapter. I'm inspired to do better because of your help. Keep em coming.

Outsane – Thanks for patiently waiting for updates. Here's a new one. I guess, I simply refuse to let the IchiRuki coupling meet a tragic end. Now if only Kubo sensei would bring her back in the manga soon. Huhu!

Fairskye – Where's my cookie? Where's my cookie? Me like a chocolate chip cookie please! Hehe.

Hontou arigatou, minna!

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Redux

Ichigo felt the cold envelop his entire body. It felt like he was being blown by an icy wind. But blown where, he didn't know or care. If this was how it felt to die, he welcomed it without a fight. He just didn't want to fight anymore.

He slowly opened his eyes even though he knew he would only see darkness. But he was buoyed by a peacefulness he couldn't name, and it gave him courage. The fear was past him. There was only acceptance.

His vision met an unexpected view. He saw stars – millions, or perhaps billions of them, shining against the expanse of black. He had never seen them this close before, each one an arm's length away.

He shielded his eyes with his hand for the stars had begun to shine brilliantly. Was he moving towards them or were they coming down to meet him? Before he could decide on the answer, the bright light suddenly flooded his dark surroundings. He could feel it was engulfing him in its wake. And it felt good.

He found himself standing in a very bright room as if white endlessly emanated from all its corners. The intense glare hurt his eyes. He wondered if this was the shinigamis' final destination when they die. He saw an opening on the white wall and walked towards it.

The outside was of different hue reminiscent of the vibrant, living world. It was breathtaking. He allowed his eyes to roam as he marveled at the thought that this might be what people call, paradise.

Then, he saw her. Black hair and sundress flapping with the breeze, she was waving her straw hat at him.

"Oi, Ichigo," she shouted, as bright lights danced around her.

"Rukia?" he whispered more to himself, not sure if his eyes were deceiving him. But his doubt was momentary. Deep inside, he felt an inexplicable joy at seeing that familiar face. The one he had gotten used to in such a short time.

"Rukia!" he shouted back, this time his voice was confident like a man finding affirmation of his beliefs. He jumped out of the white room and into a world of many hues. The ground felt warm and comforting under his feet. And he ran as fast as he could towards her. He didn't know why, though, but he felt a strong need to. There was a lingering fear at the back of his mind that she might fade away like the stars.

His eyes didn't leave her and she met his gaze with bright eyes and a wide smile. When he let a smile escape from his lips, he could no longer deny the happiness he was feeling at this moment. It was like all the tears and heartaches had been erased, the guilt and sadness all melted away.

When he reached her at last, he stood dangerously close to her. He took in every detail of her – her black hair, her blue violet eyes, her lips, the curve of her neck, her scent – and he was thankful that her wounds were no more.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of understanding. "You did it," she said simply, her voice soft like a whisper in the unseen wind.

"Yeah," he replied, feeling a little awkward that this was the only thing he could say to the person he had been longing to see, longing to gather in his arms and weep in sheer relief. The gods have kept her safe, he thought in gratitude. He gave her a boyish grin.

"I'm glad," she said with a smile as she hugged him tightly.

He was taken aback just a little for he was thinking of hugging her first and telling her how happy he was to see her. But words were failing him now. So he did the only thing he could to show her – he hugged her back with arms filled with love and caring.

The world around them seemed to dance in celebration. It changed hues, while showers of flower petals fell from the unknown sky. A hundred multicolored butterflies flitted from out of nowhere, fluttering their wings on the fragrant breeze.

They stood there in each other's embrace with unspoken love flowing through them. He wished to the gods it would never end. That they could stay like that forever, just enjoying the comfortable silence.

"You need to go back now," she whispered, as she gently let go of him. Her smile seemed sad as she stood back. She lightly touched his lips with her fingertips, while she mouthed words he couldn't hear.

And before he could protest, everything went pitch black. He tried to reach out and grab her, but she was no longer there. He called out her name in despair. 'No I refuse to lose you again,' he thought desperately. But the silent darkness had captured him once more. And bore him away.

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Ichigo woke up with a start.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," he heard someone said from one corner of the dark room. He squinted. He was having a hard time focusing his vision. He cursed silently to himself. He had closed his eyes for far too long. He immediately reached for the sword on his back but only found empty air. He felt particularly vulnerable with his strength diminished. Reluctantly, he readied himself to fight.

Urahara and Isshin emerged from the shadows. The sandal hat man had a wide grin on his face while Isshin looked uncharacteristically grim like he had lost a lot of sleep. "Yo!" he said to his son, giving him a thumbs-up sign to change his countenance.

Still dazed and confused, Ichigo gave them a blank look. He was still trying to determine if this was another nightmare or just a figment of his dying imagination. He could understand Urahara's presence for he knew that sandal hat was a former member of Soul Society. He had probably come to escort his soul to hell. But what was his father doing there? He searched for the answer and found none. He absently put the back of his hand on his forehead. His head hurt terribly.

"We thought we had lost you," Isshin's concerned voice broke the long silence. He had the look of fatherly concern on his face. But his eyes revealed his old self with a triumphant glint as if saying, 'No son of mine would lose to a hollow.' His once grim face slowly faded to show both relief and pride.

"I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry all of you," he stammered, looking down in shame. He suddenly remembered Sado, Ishida and Inoue. But just when he was about to open his mouth to ask about them, Urahara cut him short as if sandal hat had read his mind.

"Inoue, Ishida and Sado are out of danger now. It took a while for them to recover but they are already up and about," he said rather cheerfully to dissipate the tense atmosphere. "In fact, they are back to their normal lives three days ago."

"I see," Ichigo said, his voice tinge with relief. But something pricked at his heart, which he refused to acknowledge.

"As for you, you had been fatally wounded and healing you took a while," Urahara continued. "You've been unconscious for seven days."

'Seven days?' he thought, as he suddenly felt weary again. 'Has it been that long since that terrible night?'

The familiar dull ache in his heart came back all of sudden and he struggled to find the courage. He wanted to ask about Rukia, even though he didn't want to hear. He didn't want to know what happened to her. That dull pain was too hard to bear. And it was made even more painful by the fact that he was there alive. He began to tremble.

But reality dawned upon him like he was abruptly doused with icy water. And as much as he wanted to deny everything, he just couldn't escape. He felt his anger rose to a boiling point. He should've died with her.

"Why? Why did you have to save me? Why did you have to interfere with my fate? I should be dead!" He lashed out to no one in particular. His rage was brimming and out of control.

"I should've…I should've died with her…" he wailed, burying his face in his hands. He hated himself for being the one who always survived, the one who was always saved.

Isshin made an attempt to touch his son's shoulder but changed his mind. He knew Ichigo would not be consoled by a sympathetic pat on the back. For in his heart, he knew only too well that kind of grief would last a long time. And as a father, he wished he could take that pain away. But all he could do was to be there for him and to give him strength.

"BAKA MONO!" he rebuked as he grabbed Ichigo by his shirt. "Do you think being dead would change what happened? Is that how you want to repay her sacrifice for you? Huh!"

"Yes it would make a difference," Ichigo shouted back, remembering Rukia's face in his dream and felt the futility of his denial slap him squarely on the face. "Then…," he said, his voice turning into a pained whisper. "Then…I would be with her." He closed his eyes, wishing this reality would go away. But it was too late. He was alive and he knew he would never see her again.

"Fool!" his father said, but Urahara stopped him from saying anything anymore.

The former shinigami looked at Ichigo with sympathy. His face seemed pained by the boy's suffering. He was again wracked with guilt for he knew he was partly to blame for what happened to them from the beginning. If he hadn't did what he did, then there would be no grief or despair to suffer from.

But he couldn't escape the reality of it all. He had to take responsibility for his actions and do the best he could to ease the pain of every one he had brought into his cause. He would use all the power he could muster to help them even though neither redemption nor forgiveness was in sight. 'It is the least I could do,' he thought.

"Well now, if you stop being immature about the whole thing. I might be kind enough to tell you that she is here," Urahara intoned, his eyes peering out of his hat. He then walked towards the door.

"Here?" Ichigo cried hoarsely. "You mean, Rukia is here?" He tried to get up and run after Urahara. But he fell, rather miserably, for his legs were still weak. "Wait, Urahara-san…I just want to know if Rukia is really here? Please tell me."

Urahara just eyed him and walked out the door without another word. "Wait, please!" Ichigo shouted as he struggled to crawl after him. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands lifted him to his feet. It was Isshin's.

"Oyaji…" he said apologetically as his father helped him to stand steadily. He never knew his father this way. It was as if he was a totally different person from what he knew in his 15 years of life. Just the same, he would be forever grateful for his father's silent support and strength now.

"I won't be much of a father if I let you crawl around Urahara's house like that," Isshin said, hooking Ichigo's arm on his shoulders. "Besides this is not the time to assume the fetal position, we need to go after that sandal hat man, right?"

Ichigo smiled tentatively, 'He hasn't changed after all.' They walked out the door together, Ichigo leaning heavily on his father for support. He could barely walk straight.

"Oyaji…" he said as he looked straight ahead.

"Huh?" Isshin grunted in reply.

"Thank you," Ichigo said.

Isshin resisted the urge to smother his son in a tight embrace. All those sleepless nights worrying and his helplessness at the thought of losing another loved one to a hollow had been washed away by that one word. His son had survived a painful ordeal and he was thankful. 'I've raised a son you could be proud of, Masaki,' he thought.

"Hah! Once you've recovered completely, I'll give you a good kick in the face. See if you can dodge that," he smirked, glancing at Ichigo. He saw his son eyed him curiously as if he wanted to ask a lot of questions.

"I could sense there are a lot of things you want to know," Isshin said in a serious tone. "But there would be plenty of time for that."

Ichigo nodded. He saw Urahara turned a corner and he urged his legs to hurry. When they reached it, Urahara was standing by the sliding door waiting for them.

"It's about time you two catch up," he said with a knowing smile. He opened the door for them.

The room was dark just like Ichigo's, but there was an open window where light was coming through. It shone on a futon where a heavily bandaged figure lay.

"Rukia!" Ichigo cried out on reflex, while a wave of relief washed over him. He wanted to run to her side and weep. He could see she was barely alive.

"She hasn't regained consciousness yet," said Urahara gravely, the sound of his voice revealing the seriousness of her condition.

Ichigo let go of his father's shoulders and staggered towards her. He could barely hear her breathing. Her face was thin and pale. Her neck, arm, torso, and chest were all bandaged. A thin line of blood ran across her bandaged chest and neck.

"She took a lot of heavy blows and lost a lot of blood. When we came, we thought she was gone. It was devastating," Urahara said softly, his voice quivering at the recollection.

"But good thing Yoruichi-san was there in time to heal her," he continued changing into a cheerful voice. "I'm sure you know from experience that she's a very good healer, Ichigo."

Ichigo only nodded. His mind was already clouded by his deep concern for her. "Is she going to be alright?"

Urahara was at a lost for words. He glanced at Isshin for help but the father only shrugged his shoulders resignedly. He was never a person who can put things mildly in words either. Urahara sighed quietly.

"It's a little complicated to heal a shinigami's body. Unlike a human Konpaku that has a physical vessel in the living world, a shinigami is a spiritual being. So the healing process takes a lot of time…especially…" Urahara paused, debating to himself whether or not it would be wise to give Ichigo the truth. But he quickly thought that he owed him a lot of truths. "Especially for a shinigami who had just recently regained her spirit powers."

Urahara braced for Ichigo's anger. If he lashed out with his fist, Urahara resolved not to dodge but receive it completely. If Ichigo shouted that it was all his fault, he would accept it meekly. 'I deserved every bit of it,' he said to himself.

But no violent reactions came. Ichigo just nodded in understanding as he kneeled beside the futon. He didn't take his eyes off Rukia. A lump in his throat was preventing him to say anything. He looked at her small frame and held back tears.

He didn't know what he should feel. His relief at seeing her alive was now replaced by dread that she could die anytime from the very wounds he had inflicted on her. If that happened, he would never forgive himself.

"Oyaji…Urahara-san…If you don't mind. I want to be alone with her for a while," he finally said without looking at the two men. He had to calm the turmoil in his heart and somehow being with her now brought him peace.

The two men glanced at each other, neither one said a word. They quietly left the room and closed the door behind them.

Ichigo stared at Rukia's pale face for a long time. He held her bandaged hand gently and felt how fragile she really was. The shinigami who often greeted him with a fist or a kick every time they argued now laid on the futon, her life hanging on the balance.

"Look at you, you're a mess. I told you not take unnecessary risks," he chided her softly. "And that applies even though you have your shinigami powers back."

She always had a proud air about her, he thought. He remembered how angry she was when he kicked her the first time they met. She even got angrier when he called her a little snot. 'I have lived ten of your lives!' she said.

"But sometimes you really act like a brat, you know," he said to her, matter-of-factly. A distant memory of pain shot through him as he remembered Rukia's fist on his stomach. He knew immediately how she would retaliate with that one. He smirked inspite of himself.

He gently brushed a wayward hair away from her forehead. "You're stubborn, too," he added for good measure. But if it weren't for her stubbornness and pride, he wouldn't be there now. And he knew he owed his life to her again.

She didn't leave during his darkest hour even though staying to fight an opponent stronger than her meant putting her own life on the line. It was the second time she did that for him, he thought. The first was when she stood in the way of a hollow's jaw aimed at him. If it hadn't been for her faith in him that night, he would have lost his fight against his hollow-self. She came just as his spirit was gradually succumbing to the hollow's power. At that time, he felt her true strength. It helped him face his greatest fear.

But he admitted that it was foolish of her to risk her life like that. She had, after all, been given a second chance in Soul Society. He respected her decision to stay back, though it made him sad within. That was where she belonged, he told himself over and over again. She was alive, that was what mattered.

Now it was his turn to lend her his strength and support. But he felt so helpless for he wasn't familiar with this kind of fight. If it was fighting hollows he could easily lend her his physical strength and Zangetsu. He might even get rid of the hollow himself. All he needed to do was cut and win.

But Rukia's battle was different. It was something he couldn't grasp or see, though its threat was real like a hollow's presence. He struggled to come to terms with his own helplessness, closing his eyes to shun self-doubts. Finally, he came to a definite conclusion – he would have to believe in her strength and spirit like she did with him. And wait.

"Rukia," he whispered, holding her bandaged hand to his cheek. "I know you can pull through this. You're strong, stronger than I am, really. I want you to know I have faith in you. I won't leave you. Do you hear me? I'll be right here."

It was the first time in years since Ichigo prayed long and hard. But pray, he did.

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To be continued…